


So it didn't trouble them

by sudden_lizard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Azkaban, Dementors (Harry Potter) - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudden_lizard/pseuds/sudden_lizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius deals with Dementors, a day in the life in Azkaban.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So it didn't trouble them

James was laughing around a mouthful of pumpkin pie, under the sky of the Great Hall, where clouds were obscuring the waxing moon.

“Have you seen Snivellius' look? He knows it was us, but there's nothing he can do about it and it's killing him. It's giving me life, though.”

Snivellus was, indeed, looking unhappy. His hair was no longer orange, but it wasn't back to normal either. It was short and spiky and, judging by the disgusted faces at the Slytherin table, it still smelled like burnt plastic.Sirius laughed too and said something along the lines of “Snivellius should start a punk band now that he has the hair, and their novelty act could be playing his nose like a trumpet”, then Remus started to describe in detail how the groupies would fight over the snot, and James doubled down in laughter. It was funny, they were funny, the night was brilliant, there was a full moon coming and they weren't scared of it. They were thrilled about it, they were going to spend it running in the Forbidden Forrest and they weren't going to get caught either.

They were so great and so stupid, Sirius can't help but smile at the memory, and as he does so the pale moonlight is sucked out of the room and he can feel the cold closing in around him. James' face changes, the laughter is gone, there's now a frozen expression of fear and determination on it, and his brown eyes are glassy and empty. He's lying on his back in the wreckage in his house, where the killing curse must have thrown him, and Sirius is shaking him and calling his name, but it's no good, he knows it's no good. The cold is getting worse and worse, the room is pit dark. It has been a mistake to think about that time at Hogwarts, a mistake to remember, Sirius thinks. Of course the Dementors would feel it, of course they would gather around his cell, taking the warm out of him, making him instead go through this.

 _Lily! Lily! LILY!_ He's rushed up the stairs, he's running along the landing and into the nursery and then he's tripping on something long and white. Lily's arm jots from her body at an unnatural angle, her eyes too are glassy, and the red hair spreads around her head like a terrible crown, or like a blooming blood stain. _Oh god oh god Harry!_ But he must be dead too, how can he not be? A toddler would be so tiny in death, Sirius thinks madly while making his way to the cot through the wreckage.

Now there's a lot of them hovering by the door, and they've started taking off their cloaks. Sirius tries to bring back James's laughing face, the taste of pumpkin and the warmth of the Great Hall, but the image is snuffed out immediately. He remembers then, he focuses really hard on it, the relief he felt at finding Harry alive in the cot, the joy and hope that have flooded him when he realized that _the boy lived_.

“Expecto Patronum” he says again and again, but without a wand all he is able to conjure is a feeble silver mist, as thin as breath in winter air and just as easily dissipated. Cold seems to be emanating from his own bones now. He has rung the bell: “ _dinner is served”_ and now the Dementors are here, hungry and greedy, and he is going to be Kissed, he realizes in a moment of clarity _._ They will suck his soul out until there will be nothing left and he won't be able to remember any pranks, or deaths, or grief. He wants to run, but he's enclosed by stone walls and metal bars. He wants to hide, but the cell offers no refuge, it's all exposed surfaces and clear cut corners. He wants to put something between him and the Dementors, but there's nothing, all he has is a bare mattress and a metal toilet and his arms. He thinks _it's over_ and he wants it to be. He wants to kneel besides the bars and let the cold of the Dementors freeze him completely, until he's nothing more than a block of ice.

But Peter's alive. Harry is not safe. Peter is alive, Peter is free, Peter is going to hurt Harry, and Sirius is the only one who knows this. So he cannot let the Dementors get him. A helpful memory finally comes to him: he remembers sharply that he can transform, and does so.

Padfoot is lonely. He wants Pack, but Pack is gone. Pack is dead, or a traitor, or hates him, and the dog remembers this, but without the grief and the anger and the regret of the man. He also remembers that he must guard, but this too is stripped of all the implications, it's an instinct, not a responsibility. Sirius's mind in Padfoot's body is less sharp, less complicated. It's less like Christmas feast and more like dull mashed potatoes, and the Dementors soon lose interest and start to make their way down the corridor, to where screams are coming from. 

The screams grow louder, but Padfoot is used to screams by now and has no trouble falling asleep. He dreams a very fuzzy dream of running under the full moon. It makes him feel better, but, fortunately, the Dementors can't sense it.


End file.
